Fawnlock Drabbles
by fandeomoniuminthestreets
Summary: So this is a collection of all the little AU Fawnlock ideas I will ever get and write about :) Details are inside about how it will all work out and I'm very happy to receive prompts. The majority will be very fluffy and humorous, but there may be an occasional angst-depends on my mood, I guess. Rated T just to be EXTRA SAFE.


**AN: Hey everyone! So I admit I've become completely addicted to the fluff that is Fawnlock. bennyslegs on Tumblr has given me some great little ideas and I'm just going to post everything I write to do with Fawnlock here. All the prompts that I have will be referenced, but to begin with- here is the first chapter which I came up with myself.**

**Details about how the next few chapter will play out are at the bottom- but for now, enjoy the story!**

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**1-Meeting Fawnlock**

John pulled the door to his cottage shut and strolled along the dirt path that lead him to the nearby forest. He carried with him a small wicker basket and a hot thermos of tea, one held in each hand. The day was just beginning and the sky was brightening into a cool grey.

It was late in the year and the mornings had developed a chill that John wasn't overly fond of. His leg seized up in the cold; however what he was looking for in the forest made the slight discomfort worth it. John adjusted the scarf around his neck and deviated from the narrow path, treading through the thick foliage. The green grass and dying leaves, white with frost, crunched beneath his old, brown leather boots.

He sighed contently to himself and listened to the serene quiet. It was rather lovely here in the mornings; he didn't know why he hadn't moved out of London sooner. After John had returned from Afghanistan two years ago, he had retreated into himself and lost all sense of purpose. For months he wallowed in his nightmare induced sweat and anxiety before Harry suggested he take a holiday in the family cottage. John reluctantly did so and found it was _oh so_ much better than he would ever have thought.

Just the simple necessities of life, such as bathing took so much time and effort it gave him _purpose_ again. The basic style of living provided him the determination to survive, not dissimilar to the war. Even boiling a pot of tea took him at least a quarter of an hour. John had ended up moving in permanently, and he hadn't looked back since.

He came to a small clearing which featured a medium sized blackberry bush. John had been careful to prune it often, lest it get out of hand. He stuck sharp branches into the ground all around the bush to ward away hungry birds and he checked over the leaves and fruit often for diseases. The berries were sweet and delicious and he was able to make them into a jam which lasted all year. It took a lot of effort, but the satisfaction of a homemade jar of jam _alone_ (never mind how it tasted!) made it so bloody worth it.

John began pulling out the sharp branches and laid them some distance away, making sure not to catch his woollen coat on the ends. He knelt down by the bush, pulled off his gloves and started picking the berries, putting them into his basket carefully. The wicker carrier was half full and his fingertips were stained red when he heard rustling nearby. He scanned his surroundings casually; it was probably just a rabbit scarpering off.

He returned to his picking only to see something out the corner of his eye a few minutes later. Some ferns a few feet away were shaking slightly, almost imperceptibly. Curious, John went over to investigate. As he came closer he heard soft whining and his curiosity grew. He pushed back some ferns and what he saw made his jaw drop.

A small boy lay against a tree trunk, surrounded by foliage which cocooned him from the outside world. He was furry, a light chestnut all over with darker patches of rust and brown on his rump, back and chest. There were small specks of white freckled over his body, brighter and more numerous patches on his thighs and shoulders. The boy (The heck even is it? John thought wildly) froze, alarmed.

John studied his (does it even have a gender, he thought? Perhaps male_..._) face and saw the fur was wet with what seemed to be a mix of tears and blood. The boy lifted his head slightly, revealing his hands. John winced as he saw the dark finger tips gashed and bloody. Immediately, John wasn't fearful or scared- he felt incredibly concerned. John guessed that the creature had been sucking his fingers in an attempt stop the bleeding, as his lips and the fur surrounding his mouth was red with blood also. The boy's long, velvety ears twitched with every sound the forest made and he gulped down deep breathes, ready to run in an instant. His chest rose and fell rapidly, pushing the ruff of soft brown curls around his neck into his chin.

They stared at each other for some time, studying the unfamiliar attributes of each other. Slowly the boy calmed down -seeing that the human wasn't going to hurt him- and he shifted slightly on the grass. He yelped loudly in pain as a thorn in his fur dug deeper into is fleshy rear. John fell over in surprise at the sudden outburst and he composed himself in time to see the creature stand up.

'Jesus,' John breathed. It was certainly young, maybe under ten years old going by the face. He stepped out into the clearing timidly and John stared at his legs. Christ, they're long_,_ he thought. They were jointed like a deer's or a fawn's, but they didn't end in hoofs. Instead the boy stood on human footed tiptoes, the ball of his feet and toes coloured darkly like his fingers. He was much shorter than John, the boy's thin antlers only just reaching his chin. He also had a patch of coarse, almost black hair that covered his whole groin and just reached his navel. He was incredibly bony and appeared malnourished.

The boy whimpered as a previously closed wound on one of his knuckles reopened. The doctor in John compelled him to take care of the creature- despite the chance of him fleeing. He shuffled closer and stood up gradually, palms out in a show of exposure. The last thing he wanted to do was spook away this…amazing creature.

'Can I look at your hand? You're hurt.' He said gently. John didn't even know if he spoke English. He apparently didn't as he cocked his head ever so slightly and stepped back. John stayed where he was and extended his own hand.

'You're hurt.' He repeated. John looked closer at the fawn-like creature and noticed twigs and sticks were tangled in his fur, as well as sharp thorns in his fingers. John looked back at the branches he had pulled out earlier and realized that the boy had tried to eat the berries, only to become entangled in them. He must have ripped himself out of the thorny bush by force, and quite painfully it seemed.

John reached down to the basket by his feet and held it out to him, offering the berries. The boy's bright eyes scrutinized John and he felt as if those unwavering, sea-green eyes would burn a hole right through him. Slowly, and very cautiously, the boy stepped forward and reached out for a berry, only to push a thorn into his finger deeper when he gripped it.

He gasped and a few new tears rolled down his mottled cheeks. The boy's eyes were red and puffy and John felt deep compassion for the creature. His legs buckled and he sat down, landing on his rump hard. John followed suit and sat cross-legged in front of him. The boy hung his head and his curly, ebony hair flopped forward, hiding his face. John felt the sudden urge to run his fingers through the glossy locks.

How could a boy who lives in the forest be so well groomed?John wondered. After a few moments of indecision, he reached forward and simply laid his hand on the boy's head. He wasn't rough, nor did he try and force his head up, he just stayed still. The boy stiffened under his touch immeasurably and his ears pricked forward so fast it looked as if they would snap off, but he didn't move away. He sat still for John as he softly massaged his head with one hand.

After a few minutes, John added his second hand and he kneaded the skull gently. John noticed with amusement that the boy was pushing his head into John's hands, making him press harder. John complied and he heard a sigh as the boy relaxed bit by bit under the gentle caressing. Soon enough, he was making contented humming noises and his ears were flat against his head in pleasure. As John was contemplating just how weird this all was, the boy reached out again for a berry, only to hiss in discomfort as he bumped a thorn embedded in his palm. John stopped what he was doing and reached for the shallow basket. The creature watched cautiously as John lifted a berry and brought it to his face.

The boy snorted in amusement and sucked the berry from John's fingers, smiling slightly. So it seemed he had won the creature over! John rejoiced silently, feeling incredibly proud to have earned such a remarkable being's trust. John continued to feed him a few more berries before saying again, 'You're hurt'

John pointed to the boy's hands, which were currently resting in his lap. He tried to keep his sentences simple, in the hopes that he would understand. The boy held up his palms for John to examine, trying to eat the berries still. He touched a thorn very lightly on the thumb and silently asked for permission to pull it out. The creature nodded and John made fast work of the spikes, not wanting to cause him a second of pain more than necessary.

Fresh blood began oozing out of the open wounds and John pulled off his scarf quickly. He didn't care for it; it was of no value to him, so he ripped it in half and wrapped it around the bleeding hands, tying the ends with a knot. The boy then leant back and showed John his belly. John was surprised at the simple gesture. The belly was the most vulnerable spot besides the neck, and to offer it up to someone like the boy was now was…touching in a way. It showed real faith that John wouldn't hurt him.

John leant forward and stroked the soft fur, amazed and the level of hygiene the boy had. He couldn't see one flea or speck of dirt, and he smelt amazing. John leaned in closer just to catch his scent again. It was a natural smell, but exciting and comforting at the same time. It was like wet wood, rain, earth and leaves all mixed together with a hint of a spice that John didn't recognise. It was absolutely addicting. John pushed himself back, sensing the boy was growing impatient and he searched for tangles in the short fur. John found a red patch near his hip bone. A stick had jabbed his skin and broken off, getting caught up in the light hair. The boy gritted his teeth as John touched it lightly.

He felt guilty; he had put the branches up in his selfish want for berries. The skin was red and inflamed under the fur and it looked very sore. John rubbed his belly comfortingly, mesmerised by the shiver he saw run up his spine. He wouldn't be able to remove the clotted and tangled bits of fur here in the forest, and certainly not sanitarily. Even the boy's scarf bound hands would need disinfecting.

John breathed in his scent once more and stood up. The young boy was stretched out on his back languidly, arms behind his head. He still looked a bit uncomfortable, but he seemed peaceful and he had his eyes closed. John took this small opportunity to admire the beautiful markings he had on his face and especially around his eyes. They were very dark, making the colour of his iris stand out. After a prolonged silence, the creature cracked an eye open and caught him staring. John blushed lightly as he gave him a cheeky grin. John cleared his throat and extended his hand to him.

'Err…you need to come back… with me….toooo my…house?' John didn't know how to explain what he wanted to do in a way that the boy could understand. The creature got up and brushed the leaves and grass off his body, careful to avoid the sore spots. John noticed a fluffy tail just above the cleft of his arse. It was a rusty colour on the top and white underneath and it shook rapidly, dislodging the grass and dirt in it. The boy nodded in understanding knowingly.

'Alright, I assume your house it that way?' he said. He pointed of into the direction that John came from and marched off, not waiting for an answer. John stood rooted to the spot, flabbergasted. He opened and shut his mouth several times, at a loss for words. He does understand English! John ran after him and grumbled crossly. The boy just laughed and grinned even more. It was a bright, happy laugh that made John reluctantly smile. John had to walk a bit further away from the boy than he normally would have due to the antlers.

'Fine, be annoying,' he huffed, 'I'm John Watson by the way, err… what do I call you?' The creature contemplated this as they walked out of the forest.

'Well, you can't really say my name in my language. It's too complicated to learn now, at least. So…' his ears flattened against his head and he furrowed his brow in thought, 'I guess the rough translation would be Fawnlock.'

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**AN: So I can have the next chapter continue straight on from this one, or I could jump onto another idea! For all the different things I have in mind, Fawnlock and John will need to be different ages. I'll try to keep things in chronological order, but it will most likely jump around. I'll write the character's ages at the beginning of each chapter :)**

**Please review and send in ANY ideas you have! I would love to hear them!**


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